


Screaming out for more

by dragon_rider



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hated feeling fragile and small, but that was how Blake made him feel sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screaming out for more

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on Tumblr, "fic about Adam's jealousy 'cause Blake always kisses, hugs,etc his team's contestants? They 'll have a conflict but Blake always know how to comfort Adam."
> 
> Apologies for the mistakes. English isn't my first language.

Adam picked up his pace in the hallway of the studio, his strides long and angry-sharp.

The staff parted from his path like the red sea and Adam tightened his grip on the folder with scores he was carrying, thanking whatever God above that it was only a rehearsal day because there was no way he could put on his game face enough for a show, not with Blake’s booming laughter and face-crinkling grins he caught a glimpse of every time they crossed paths.

He had days like this. After a lifetime of having girlfriends and not really being the jealous type at all—unless his girlfriend decided to shove her tongue down another man’s throat, in which case he felt vindicated and in his right to be—suddenly having a boyfriend and realizing he _was_ nauseatingly possessive after all was quite the revelation.

It messed with his balance, the way his heart stumbled and shuddered every time Blake held one of his contestants. Adam knew Blake was too fucking honest to fake affection for them only for his team to feel more confident and united. He knew Blake did actually care a lot for each one of them.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t dismiss all the hugs and the pecks and the praise pouring out of Blake’s mouth.

Maybe he was just pathetic.

If he had to hear yet again just how amazingly talented and brilliant and original the artists on Blake’s team where, he was going to puke.

And that wouldn’t do on national television, that much he knew.

***

Around noon, Adam allowed himself to be a little selfish, a little mushy, and gave in to his need to be with Blake or at least as close to him as they could afford in their workplace—out in the open, where they were good friends and nothing else, where they had a bromance and nothing else.

The romance was for their homes, a secret they protected and kept close to their chests because America—and probably the rest of the world as well—wasn’t ready to have the Sexiest Man Alive and a manly, classic Country star in a relationship just yet, if ever.

Maybe that helped too, to fuel the insecurity he wasn’t even aware he could feel; the fact that aside from their families, his bandmates and Carson no one else knew Adam was the one who held Blake’s heart in his hands.

He perched on Blake’s lap, carrying food as both excuse and shield to his behavior, and soon there weren’t even free chairs around them for Adam to be able to move from his comfortable place on Blake’s thigh, with one of his big hands spread on the small of his back.

Even there, not lashing out every time Blake paid attention to his team instead of him took some serious effort.

He grit his teeth, cursing because they couldn’t kiss—and seeing some mirrored grief in Blake’s baby blues didn’t help, not really—and hurting with just how much he needed that bit of contact that was only his and his alone, that no one else could have from Blake no matter how fucking affectionate he could be with just about anybody that mattered to him.

Blake sent him off after giving him one obnoxiously loud and wet kiss on the neck.

Adam shivered and made a face in mock disgust, as usual, but that tiny, not exclusive display of affection was what held most of his dark mood at bay for the rest of the day and he was thankful for it because his team didn’t need to deal with his shit on top of the stress of the competition.

***

He knew he was being stupid and oversensitive but that didn’t make the sting any less tangible when Blake waved him off and kept talking in excited tones over the phone after he’d opened the front door of his house in LA to let Adam in.

It was like a slap in the face, having proof Blake didn’t suffer from the same withdrawals symptoms and neediness that he did.

He’d spent the whole day wanting Blake’s lips on him, wanting his eyes on him, just wanting him for himself for a while—a long while, if he could have his way—so being ignored when they were finally and mercifully alone was almost too much.

He set his jaw, tried to think rationally—tried to remember Blake was a devoted coach and constantly talking with his team during off-hours was one of the many things he did even though he didn’t have to and that it didn’t mean he didn’t want Adam—and failed miserably.

He dragged his escalating gloom and his mind-shattering jealousy to the bathroom and took a long, scalding shower.

The hot water didn’t ease the tension on his muscles—or around his heart—one bit.

***

He considered doing some yoga briefly, discarding the idea in favor of stealing one of Blake button-downs from the closet and sliding it on his flushed, overheated skin.

If he wanted Blake’s attention, it looked like he was going to have to work for it.

***

“That sounds awesome,” Blake was saying, a satisfied smile on his face and his eyes closed in concentration, “On that last note though, you could…”

Adam padded softly to his side, made himself wait out of sight until Blake was finished giving whoever it was advice, still sitting on the same spot he was an hour ago.

He hoped it wasn’t the same singer he was talking to when he first arrived, because just the idea ignited petty, opaque urges in him such as throwing a temper tantrum or breaking a few mementos from past seasons that laid around Blake’s living room.

“Is the best coach done for the night?” he asked mockingly when Blake hung up.  
“Gosh, I hope so,” Blake groaned, fatigue creeping into his tone so thoroughly it made Adam wince in sympathy.

He laughed between gasps the next instant, when Blake’s work-addled brain caught up with the situation and his hands scrambled to get a hold of Adam wearing his shirt, fingers firm and delighted as they snuck under it and caressed his thighs and buttocks, curling on his hipbones to pull him to the space between his legs.

“I must’ve done something right today,” Blake breathed on his skin, teeth digging into the soft skin just under his jaw enough to make Adam shiver but not enough to leave marks, “Lucky me. My God, Adam, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Adam smirked, reveling in the way Blake’s breathing was already ragged, his touches eager and randy, his erection insistent and unmistakable pressing against his leg.

“Missed me today?” he asked, tone light, dipping his head to lick Blake’s ear, “I almost snagged you for a quick make out session, would you have liked that, baby?”

Blake swore in appreciation—his ears were ridiculously sensitive and Adam liked playing dirty, he admitted it—and groaned a remorseful, heartfelt reply along the lines of _yes, me too_ while making fun of how Adam’s jeans were actually tighter than Gwen’s and how that was distracting and unfair.

Adam swatted him lightly, chuckling in spite of himself, and dedicated himself to the pleasing task of making Blake regret each and every second of the day he’d spent without thinking of Adam.

***

They’d just made it to the bedroom—Blake’s trousers and plaid shirt forgotten somewhere behind them on the stairs and the hall—when Blake’s phone went off.

The giant asshole had the nerve to stop and straighten up, off of Adam’s willing body, and he had to bite his tongue not to scream when Blake mumbled a shitty apology and retreated in search of his cellphone.

It had probably something to do with how Blake made his team feel so comfortable with him he ended up being some sort of awesome, goofy uncle more than a coach because they were clearly so fucking comfortable calling him no matter what time it was but it was the last straw for Adam.

He had his own stupid anxiety and self-doubt to feel like he was only third or maybe fourth in Blake’s list of priorities.

He didn’t need actual facts to be convinced of how true that was.

He called for a cab and got dressed, not even bothering to let Blake know he was leaving.

He was pretty sure it was going to be a while before he noticed, anyway, so what was the point?

***

He was smoking in his kitchen, the door to the patio wide open and the lights from outside the only ones cutting through the dark around him, when he heard a few excited barks and sighed, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

It wasn’t long before he could feel Blake’s eyes on his back. He lit another, wrapping himself in both indifference and smoke to cover just how fucking helpless and dumb he felt.

He hated feeling fragile and small, but that was how Blake made him feel sometimes, times in which Adam seriously considered what he was doing and whether or not it was worth this horrible ache, persistent and burning and seated deep in his bones like he’d been loving and longing for Blake for ten times as long as they’d been together.

He was so in over his head. The answer was always _yes_.

Blake approached him slowly, carefully, and slid his phone across the counter before speaking.

Adam could see it was off and saw also the apology in the gesture, knowing it’d probably taken a lot out of Blake to make himself unavailable for his team and his friends, but he didn’t react to it.

He kept smoking, eyes stinging at the thought of forcing Blake to do something he didn’t want to do, throat itching but no words spilling out of him.

He was still too upset and didn’t want to risk saying something he’d regret later.

“You should get some sleep,” he said at length, his voice as frail as he felt, chin tucked down as he reached for another cigarette, “It’s getting late.”

It was as much of a truce as he could offer.

He heard Blake heaving a sigh and felt like an ass, remembering how tired he was—how tired they both were, but that was hardly relevant since he’d gladly give up hours of good rest only to have Blake pressed against him, whispering promises in his ear that Adam could at least believe for as long as they kept moving up and down so in sync it was impossible to brood or to think about a thing that wasn’t how incredible they were together—and his spine tensed even more, shoulders trembling under the weight of guilt and shame.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he tried again, his apology drained but frank even if he couldn’t bring himself to look at Blake yet, “I know you’re tired. Go to sleep, Blake. We can talk later.”  
“I was on the phone for two minutes, Adam,” Blake said, voice clipped like he wanted to be angry but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, “And you were gone. And now you won’t even look at me. What’s going on? What did I do?”

When not even Blake’s soft, concerned drawl managed to ease the anger bubbling inside of him, Adam knew they were in for a fight.

They had those every now and then but so far they’d always had an actual valid reason to argue.

What was Adam supposed to say? _Sorry, I’m just tired of you talking and hugging and caring more about your team than me_?

He wondered how fast Blake was going to break up with him and slam the door on his way out if he said that.

He wondered if he still had it in him, to be strong enough to chase after a love he wasn’t sure he deserved or even existed anymore, after he crushed it.

“Two minutes?” Adam snorted, “Try an hour and a half. You could’ve told me you were busy and I’d driven here instead of distracting you, you know, would’ve saved us both lots of trouble.”

Blake’s fingers entwined tentatively around his hand, squeezing when Adam didn’t pull away, and Adam put out his cigarette butt with shaky, uneven movements before turning to look up at him.

“You know I’m never busy for you,” Blake said and the dickhead sounded like he believed what he was saying, the poor gullible idiot, “I wanted to see you, I wasn’t gonna call you so we wouldn’t meet. I’m sorry, alright? The songs I chose for my team this week are really challenging and they’re having trouble being comfortable with them, and you know we don’t have much time to begin with to—“

Adam flung the phone right at his chest, effectively cutting Blake’s speech off, and stood up from the stool even if that only helped to highlight just how fucking huge and out of his reach Blake really was.

“It’s Brenda, isn’t it?” he asked, referring to one of Blake’s singers who was almost in her thirties and was a stunning blonde woman with an equally if not even more stunning voice, “Or Dalila? Or whoever the fuck it is, I just—look, if you realized you miss being with a woman, door’s over there. Turn on your damn phone and talk with them, I don’t give a fuck.”

Blake fumbled to grab the cellphone, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. He didn’t shout or reacted much aside from it, just stared at Adam like he’d grown two heads and neither was making much sense.

“You’re jealous,” Blake stated, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

Adam felt his face burning and ducked his head, convinced the Country star was about two seconds from fuming and leaving him.

He knew he was making a big accusation with hardly any ground, that he’d get so offended if he were in Blake’s place he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forget about it. He knew Blake was more fatherly than anything else to his team, even if the contestants were grown-ups already, but he’d never dealt well with being ignored and keeping their relationship secret was taking its toll on him because he couldn’t quell the little surges of doubt with kisses and touches, couldn’t tell people _Hey, back off, this cowboy is mine and I’m keeping him_ , couldn’t do anything but seethe inwardly while they enjoyed many of the things Adam loved and needed to have to himself.

Instead of taking it the wrong way though, Blake made a sound in the back of his throat and stopped being coy and cautious, throwing his arms around Adam and picking him up only to leave him on the counter.

Blake was so tall even with the extra leverage Adam didn’t tower over him. But it was enough to be level and Blake pressed his forehead to his, holding him tight enough to knock the air out of Adam.

He closed his eyes against the prickle of relieved tears, knowing before Blake spoke that they were going to be okay, that he hadn’t misunderstood what he had meant.

That was why they worked so well as a couple. They didn’t need words, at least they didn't most of the time, and was also why they ended up butting heads from time to time.

“How about we sneak out early tomorrow?” Blake suggested, his breath warm on his lips, a grin making his eyes shine, “I’ll make a fancy dinner for you, you’ll put one of your pretty suits for me to take it off later, and we’ll have all night for each other and no one else.”

Adam felt his cheeks flushing, this time in a pleasant and anticipatory way, and bit back a laugh at how fucking easy he was.

His chest felt a lot lighter already.

He smiled a little, nipping at Blake’s bottom lip exactly how he knew it'd turn Blake’s voice an octave lower.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m dressing up for you, cowboy,” he teased, breaking apart just enough to breathe, arms going around Blake’s neck telling him just how much he liked the idea, “You’ll have to play nice and we’ll see about that.”  
“I can do that,” Blake promised, voice deep and raspy and eyelids drooping as he dived in for another kiss, “I can do that and more, honey, you just wait and see.”

Adam did wait, lips parted in invitation, and let the tension slip out of him little by little with each glide of Blake’s lips on his.


End file.
